


Reprisal

by MissSilverWings



Series: The Carolina Connection [3]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Comfort, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 04:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSilverWings/pseuds/MissSilverWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Carolina Connection Series:  Book 1 part 3:  REPRISAL</p>
<p>Alvada is dead but someone still seeks revenge. Attacks, plots, counter-attacks, more plots. Gibbs and Molly have some difficult times ahead, as Tony and Tim do their best to keep things running. Abby get crossways with Gibbs and Director Morrow is slowly losing his hair. Please R & R? Thanks from an appreciative author! Hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA  
> The Carolina Connection Series Book 1, part 3: REPRISAL

* * *

 

A little over eight months had passed since their return from Saudi Arabia and Molly had made good progress in the re-adjustment to her life in DC and at NCIS. There were still nightmares at times, and it was hard to stop looking over her shoulder, closely watching any strangers near her. It was hard to let her guard down.

MCRT had caught case after case and she was truly enjoying the challenge of solving crimes again. The familiar pattern of investigation felt good and the mental activity of solving a case was invigorating.

Her street smarts proved as valuable as Tony's and the pair had become a formidable team that both Tim and Gibbs recognized and respected.

After supper at home that night, Molly and Gibbs settled into a quiet evening. Gibbs sat in a comfortable chair across from Molly who was watching a movie on her laptop while reclining on the couch. He kept glancing up at her, studying her face as she soared through the air with the aircraft in the movie, a small smile on her face, which put a softened expression on his own.

Though the book was still held in his hands as if he was reading, Gibbs gave up on that as he examined his thoughts. He realized that he was very happy with his life now. Much of his loneliness had fallen away since he brought Molly here from Wilmington. There was more to his life now as drunken brooding in the basement had gradually fallen by the wayside. There was sunlight where before there had only been deep shadows of the past and suffocating darkness.

He thought of Shannon and Kelly often, but something had shifted though he couldn't tell you what. They had died and were still _greatly_  loved but he at last realized and accepted that he could continue with life and did not have to remain a prisoner of the past. He just knew that he actually felt good now, more at ease and less tense than he had been in many years.

He had had to talk Molly out of getting her own place several times. He  _didn't_  want her to leave. The months he had spent with her in the two cabins while in hiding from Alvada's men had opened his eyes to many things in his life that he no longer had to hold onto.

He had twisted most of them into things that were worse than they really were and he allowed them to keep him prisoner. Or maybe he had used them to hide behind, sparing himself from facing life again.

Many of them had simply become habit, but one by one, they seemed to be slowly dropping by the wayside.

At work,Tony and Tim had settled into a good routine in which Tony no longer badgered the younger agent to death. It was as if he had grown up in some way, as if they had found level ground where each was equal to the other, though Tim now accepted Tony's senior position and authority. Tony never flaunted it.

Not that Tony still wasn't a bundle of energy who sometimes chattered too much, his quick mind, easily bored, wouldn't hesitate to instigate a paper wad fight or some such.

No, their personalities were certainly intact and they were who they were, but there was mutual respect and that made the difference.

Gibbs had kept a discrete eye on his Senior Field Agent ever since Molly had been brought to Washington. The Boss knew that at first the younger man had had a huge crush on Molly, but that had gradually been replaced with genuine friendship and respect, especially after he saw her ability as an investigator and interrogator. Gibbs often sent the two of them out on investigations and they rarely failed to bring back the information needed. What one wouldn't think of, the other one would. It was amazing.

Tim adored her. The two of them had become like sister and brother. They did a lot of what Molly called "hangar flying" as they sat on the floor many evenings talking about airplanes and flying.

She continually grilled him on the books of information that Tim had to know before taking the day-long written exam for his private license and the oral exam to which he would be subjected the following day. Then would come the dreaded inflight check ride with an FAA examiner.

More and more, she and Tim were talking about when they could bring 56-Charlie to DC. They spent a lot of time examining aviation charts of the area and possible small airfields they might like. Charlie had to have a home base.

Gibbs didn't understand the whole thing but apparently there were many restricted areas, not only because of government buildings, but controlled air traffic corridors for the arrival and departure of commercial aircraft at Reagan National Airport, Dulles International just west of Washington, and Baltimore/Washington International to their northeast. They wanted to avoid all that.

They finally located a small full-service field to the east of Anacostia that seemed to satisfy their requirements. They would be far enough away from the big airports yet close enough to DC. Now it was a matter of finding the time to fly the little plane up from North Carolina.

Tim insisted that the two of them split the costs of hangaring the little plane, fuel, maintenance, insurance, etc. They came to terms that suited both of them and began looking at the calendar for a potential time to move it.

At the Yard, the four of them worked smoothly as one unit, each one supporting the others. They were in perfect balance.

He found it hard to believe that it was just over two years since he and his team had met the former DEA agent. So much had happened since that time but Molly seemed to pull out of it with few mental or emotional scars. At least she kept it to herself if she did, which is what he strongly suspected.

One evening after Molly's movie had ended, he had looked up from his book to find her studying him with slightly narrowed eyes and that little smile she had when she was thinking.

"Whatcha thinking about, Molly?" Everyone at NCIS had seemed to settle on her old nickname 'Mac' and she was comfortable with it, but Gibbs always called her Molly.

"Just thinkin'."

"Well, I figured that part out by myself," he responded dryly. "About what?"

"About you."

"What about me?"

"You're - really a great guy. And you've got a soft heart but you don't want anybody to know. You're more stubborn than an old mule, you're usually grumpy, you're generous to a fault, you're extremely intelligent, you have natural-born instincts about people, you're are about the best investigator I've ever seen. And I love being around you."

He studied her in silence for long minutes. He was almost afraid to ask how she came to that conclusion because two things he had learned were: one – she'd never lie and two - don't ever ask her a question unless you were prepared for an honest answer.

For some reason, Gibbs seemed to pay attention to the things Molly said. A no-BS, tell-it-like-it-is, straight arrow.  _'A lot like Shannon in some ways.'_

"What set you on that path?"

Molly's eyes dropped to the carpet on which she sat as she blushed a little. "I don't think I want to go there, Jethro."

"Why not?"

"Just don't."

A little later, she spoke again, "Jethro?"

"Hm?"

"I need to get my own apartment. Yeah, I know we've talked about this before, but I need to be on my own for a while. After – being held prisoner for so long – and all that happened before, it's just something I need to do. I need to be able to reestablish myself as I was before. I'm not standing on my own two feet now. I need to know that I can."

Gibbs' blue eyes never left her face and he kept his silence as his heart picked up its pace. He had detected something in her that was different since they had returned but until now she hadn't said anything about it. Maybe she did need to prove something to herself.

"I'll miss you, Molly," his voice was soft and sad.

"I'll miss you, too, Jethro. I don't want to hurt your feelin's because you're - far too important to me. I've – really loved bein' here with you, ya know. But Alvada's dead now and – I really – have to do this."

Gibbs just nodded and moments of quiet passed before he said in that same low tone, "Promise me – you'll come back. Your place will always be here waiting for you. Nobody else can fill it, Molly." His eyes were intense as they searched her face.

Molly nodded with a soft sad smile. "It's – it's not something I  _want_ to do, I  _have_  to do it – at least for a while."

"You don't have to explain it. You're not a prisoner here and I'm sure no prince. Just – come back when you're ready."

* * *

Their next weekend off, Molly went to the nearby neighborhood pharmacy and bought a morning paper, then went home, made more tea and sat at the table looking at listings of apartments available. Several were circled that met her criteria for location, rent, pets allowed, etc.

Gibbs had gone to the hardware store and a lumber yard, so she handled everything herself. Calling each number, she made appointments to see them, copying down the few addresses on a slip of paper. Dressing warmly in slacks, boots, sweater and soft leather jacket, she and Roger left to check out the first apartment.

The neighborhood was nice enough but the apartment was just too small even for one person. And it was located high up in what had formerly been an attic and natural lighting was very poor. Thanking the owner, she continued on to the next one.

The second one was certainly worthy of consideration. It was in a quiet, leafy neighborhood, not far from work, shopping or access to major highways. The rent was a little higher than she had wanted to pay but thought that it might be worth it.

Another plus was that Roger and the owner, Mr. Jenkins, had hit it off right away. Molly told him that Roger was a retired Marine service dog and the old man had straightened his back and sharply saluted the intelligent animal. "I served in 'Nam so I know what these dogs do. They kept me alive more times than I can count. I'd consider it an honor for him to be here."

The apartment itself was well lighted with many big beautiful windows and much more than enough room that she didn't feel the least bit crowded. The colors of the walls pleased her, too, particularly the soft butter color in the living room. She'd be content here, she thought.

She put down a deposit, but told Mr. Jenkins that she did want to check out two others, though she had pretty much fallen in love with what he had shown her. He had smiled and patted her on the shoulder as he said, "It is only prudent that you do, Miss MacKenzie. I hope that you and Roger will decide in my favor."

The other two apartments had their good points and not-so-good points, but she returned to tell Mr. Jenkins that she'd like to sign a contract and begin moving in immediately. She told him that her occupation may require her to move without much notice and hoped they could come to terms on it.

The aging war vet smiled and tore up the pre-printed contract he had pulled from a pocket. Excusing himself a moment, he returned with a blank sheet of paper. "Why don't we make up one of our own?"

When they finished, it turned out to be a most agreeable document that was basically a month-to-month contract that renewed with the payment of each month's rent.

Returning to Gibbs' still-empty house, she loaded her clothing into the back of the Jeep, then returned to her new apartment and hung them in her big walk-in closet. She didn't have much so there was lots of space left over. Since a one-bedroom was all she wanted, the bonus was the extra closet space and a private bathroom. A small powder room was available for guests.

She made a second round trip bringing the few small things she owned and put them in their new places. Her move was complete. She made sure that Mr Jenkins was okay with her firearms being in the apartment.

He grinned, saying, "Got some of my own, Miss Molly. Doesn't bother me a bit. Good to know I got backup if I need it!"

She waited at Jethro's house until he returned from his errands and excitedly told him what had transpired. Keeping his own emotions tightly nailed down, he asked, "Well, gonna show me?"

Following her red Jeep in his truck, he gave the neighborhood a thorough visual examination before giving it his approval. Parking in front of the house containing her apartment, he noted everything around it, checking for anything that didn't feel right. It appeared to be a secure place.

Molly opened the front door, led him into the enclosed foyer, tapped on the door to the main house and introduced him to Mr. Jenkins. As it usually was with vets, they immediately established a link between themselves as fellow marines and from that point onward became 'Sarge' and 'Gunny'.

Watching them, Molly thought with a smile, ' _This is a slam dunk!'_ She knew Jethro wasn't in favor of her leaving but she was thankful that he wasn't making it more difficult for her.

The small square foyer gave access to the main house and the stairs that led to her sunny apartment.

They climbed the stairs, she unlocked her door and walked him through the apartment. Jethro had to admit it was a  _very_  nice place and seemed totally appropriate for her, almost as if it had been created for her. Knowing that was a marine downstairs added to his feeling of security for her.

After the tour and sitting in the living area for a short time, Jethro asked, "Hungry?"

"Yeah. I've been so busy I haven't eaten today."

"Come on. Let's go."

Taking his truck with Roger very happily riding in the back, Gibbs drove to a favorite little homestyle restaurant they had enjoyed for a long time where they ate a relaxing meal. Molly's eyes were alight as she talked about the few things she wanted to get for her new place.

Gibbs listened with a soft expression and quiet eyes that never strayed from her face. ' _Damn, I'm gonna miss her!'_ he thought. _'Hope she comes back soon.'  
_

He drove her home, hating that she wasn't coming home with him, but he wasn't going to ruin her happiness. As he was leaving the apartment, he held her for a moment, then planted a lingering kiss on her forehead. His "Good night, Molly" was as soft as velvet.

When he left, she turned back to an apartment that seemed a little empty now. After checking that Roger had food and fresh water in his bowl, she took him out for a short walk. Returning, she strolled through her new home making a short list of things she wanted to purchase, mostly stuff for the kitchen, some linens, towels and so on.

Mr. Jenkins' late wife had the apartment beautifully furnished in her opinion and she was  _well_  satisfied with it. A major plus was the stacked washer/dryer unit in the big bathroom. She had hated the thought of having to go to a laundromat all the time, but even that was taken care of here.

Being on the second floor put her up high enough that Molly felt as if she was in a big tree house because of all the big mature trees close by the house. It would be nice when spring arrived and they all leafed out again. Until then, the sun would shine in, picking up the color on the living room walls turning everything to a gentle glowing gold.

* * *

Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny, just warm enough to entice people outdoors. Molly had slept well, surprising her somewhat, and she felt really good.

She picked up her phone and called Tony. "Whatcha doin', partner?"

"Hey, MollyMac! I was just sitting here trying to decide what to do with myself today. Hate to waste a rare Sunday off."

"I know what ya mean. How 'bout goin' out for breakfast somewhere, somewhere that might have grits."

Tony laughed. "I don't know about the grits part but I know where were can get some great eggs and bacon. Boss coming, too?"

Molly explained, "I got an apartment yesterday, Tony. Gotta get back to where I used to be before all hell broke loose on me, so it's just me and Roger. Want me to pick you up?"

"Sure! Then you can tell me all about it. How 'bout I call Tim?"

"Terrific! See you shortly!"

After taking Roger out for a walk, she had a quick shower, dressed and they were out.

When picking up Tony, he said that Tim had plans to meet a friend so he had asked for a raincheck. The little restaurant was perfect. The people there were genuinely friendly and Molly made a mental note to return often.

After a great breakfast (but without grits), they lingered over coffee talking about cases, experiences and just enjoying the relaxed time together, then Tony asked see her apartment.

As might be expected, Tony and Mr. Jenkins became friends almost from the first handshake. Tony really liked the apartment, enough so that he even volunteered to go with her to shop for the things she wanted to get for it.

They had a great time picking out this and that, Tony joking and clowning around the entire time, but Molly had to admit he really had good taste in different things he suggested – and he made it such fun! He helped bring in the boxes and bags of her purchases.

Later, after he had gone home, Gibbs called. "Just wanted to check on you. Everything all right?"

She told him what she had been doing but was now going out to get a groceries; she had to stock the entire kitchen.

"Want some company?"

For a moment, Molly wasn't sure she heard right. Jethro offering to go shopping with her? "Uh, yes! Sure... Jethro, are you feelin' alright?"

He chuckled, "Yeah. Just miss you."

She answered softly, "I miss you, too, Jethro. I'll look for you soon."

Sure enough, the man who detested grocery shopping tapped on the door and off they went. Roger didn't understand all the changes but he sure liked all this going to different places and seeing his humans! Being so well trained and behaved, he could go anywhere with them.

As they casually strolled up and down the aisles, Jethro realized he was enjoying this. The initial stocking of a kitchen meant a  _lot_  of stuff was required. He even found a couple of nice steaks he liked for his own place. Molly asked him to pick out some for her. He could spot a good steak from fifty paces.

Roger had to move over to make room for all the bags in the truck and he spent a few minutes carefully sniffing each one, exploring the myriad of scents they offered.

Gibbs pondered the feelings he was experiencing. He hadn't really been on a major grocery shopping trip since Shannon died. But he was genuinely enjoying this very domestic chore as he and Molly quietly poked fun at each other as they went.

As soon as she managed to complete her touches on the apartment, she wanted to invite everyone over for a great meal.

First she had to get some pots and pans.

Not long afterward on a chilly Saturday afternoon as Gibbs worked in his yard, a Latino in work clothes approached with a big smile. "Buenos dias, Señor. I am José, a gardener. Would you like for me to do your gardening for you? My prices are very small."

Gibbs stood looking at the man with one of his blue-eyed stares that could pin a bug to the wall. It was all José could do not to fidget under that intimidating examination.

"Do it myself."

"Si, many people enjoy it. There is something soothing about working in the soil and watching beautiful things come to life under your care."

"Yeah, well, give me your card."

Dirty fingers dug into a pocket and pulled out a card that simply read  _Jos_ _é_ _'s Gardening Service_  with a phone number.

The man left and Gibbs continued his work, but his mind was racing. Maybe it was just that the man brought up too many memories that were best left where they were, but he'd do some checking at the office Monday.

* * *

Monday morning, after Tony and Molly left to check out some stuff for a cold case, Gibbs quietly gave a private assignment to McGee to research some information for him. No one else was to know for the time being. Concerned, Tim nodded and intently focused on obtaining the answers the Boss needed.

Just after lunch, McGee caught the Boss' eye and met him in the alcove beneath the stairs. Tim handed him a piece of paper, his voice low and troubled, he said, "Here it is, Boss. Not good. You want me to dig a little deeper?"

Gibbs looked at the name on the paper as his stomach tightened. Carlos Alvada, junior, beneficiary of a large life insurance policy on the late Carlos Alvada, senior.

Immediately his mind went to the gardener who had approached him. Innocent or a probe looking for information?

"Dig as deep as you can, Tim, but keep it to yourself. I want all intel possible on him before I say anything to Molly."

"Yes, sir. On it."

* * *

Molly and Tony were just leaving a large department store where they had interviewed an employee who had been a witness in a case, when Molly stopped, her voice very low, "Tony, we've got a tail." She pointed and gestured as if she was looking at something in the large display window. "Dark guy, possibly Latino, jeans, green polo, sunglasses, about 5'10", hundred forty pounds. He was at our last stop."

Tony continued the charade at the show window as he verified her description. "Let's head back. See what happens."

They returned to the agency's Dodge Charger in the parking lot; the man's eyes followed them as he retrieved his cellphone and made a call.

Tony called Gibbs, "Hey Boss. We've picked up a tail and are returning to the Yard." He gave the description and ended the call.

Gibbs' gut went into overtime. "Got anything new, McGee?"

"Not really, Boss. He has any number of legitimate businesses, the primary one being investments. No ties so far to connect him to his father's businesses."

Gibbs sat at his desk thinking. If this is at the order of Alvada junior, he was going to put a stop to it quick.

"Keep digging, Tim. I gotta know everything there is about him."

"Got it, Boss."

When Tony and Molly returned, Molly's expression was stoic and appeared to have herself together, but stoic wasn't an expression normally associated with Special Agent MacKenzie.

Quietly, Gibbs ordered them, "Tell me about it."

After hearing what they had to say, he told them about the visit of the gardener on Saturday. "José may be exactly what he says he is, but I don't believe in coincidences."

He looked at Molly. "Go with Tony, pack a bag. You're staying with me until I find out what this is about."

Molly wasn't about to accept that. "Gibbs, there could be a thousand reasons for what we saw today. It certainly doesn't mean that I'm targeted."

Gibbs left his desk and knelt down beside her desk, taking her hands into his, blue eyes gentle yet authoritative. "Molly, I don't want to tell you this, but we learned today that Carlos Alvada left a son, Alvada junior. This may or may not be related, but until we know what is going on, you will stay with me."

Feeling as if she had just been slugged in the stomach, Molly just sat looking at him. She couldn't even voice her great dismay and dread. She felt that she simply didn't have the strength or energy to go through this any longer. It had to end.

Gently pulling on her hands, Gibbs brought her to her feet. "Go with Tony."

* * *

A young well-dressed young man who was probably in his early-to-mid thirties sat at a large desk with his chair turned so he could see out the enormous wall of glass behind him. Staring at the familiar scene, he puffed on a big cigar as he thought.

He was as thoroughly resolved to seeing a certain project completed as he had been the day he received the news. A blast of gunfire and his father was gone. Bitter anger had driven him to ferret out the whole story of what had happened.

Now he knew exactly who to go after – and he would not fail. If his father had one fault, it would have been his tendancy to depend on others too much to see that certain actions were taken care of. He had no problem with taking care of business himself.

Yes, he might have others do some preliminary legwork or scouting, but he'd pull the trigger himself - if he decided that a trigger was the best choice in making someone suffer. He had learned so many ways from Luis, a close associate of his late father.

He actually felt a tingle of excitement run through him at the thought. It made his blood race, hot and determined. He had to force himself to return to the cool, educated businessman everyone believed him to be. Married with two children. The thought of his wife did nothing to help cool his blood. He wished he could go home at this minute to satisfy himself.

Or, there was his mistress. One call and she would be here quickly. The more he thought about it, the heavier he breathed. Shaking fingers dialed a private number which was answered by a low, soft voice. "Come to me. I need you."

The woman smiled to herself. She had been this man's mistress for two years now and she knew how to please him in ways most other women never dreamed of. Her skills had been called for with great frequency and she had never failed to leave his whole body limp and blissfully satisfied.

Her position had allowed her to learn many things about this man. And his business. She knew that at some point in time, this information would be quite valuable to someone – and she would live the rest of her life in splendid ease.

So she smiled seductively and dressed herself without any underclothing. When he saw her, he would know and it would set him on fire. She knew her craft well.

* * *

Three days of intense research had brought them little worthwhile information. Carlos Alvada, junior, appeared to be an astute and legitimate businessman who worked the world stock markets and did very, very well.

His name wasn't tied to any known criminals, other than his father (as if that wasn't enough.) It was known that he and his father were very close so there is no way he could not know of his father's activities.

Again the FBI joined in their search, then the CIA. Molly was completely disgruntled with the latter agency. If they had all these agents everywhere, why didn't they know more than they do? In her eyes, their approval rating sank somewhere below that of Congress.

Molly even called the local DEA office asking if they had any knowledge of Alvada jr and got a 'We'll get back to you' response. Translation: Never heard of 'im but we gonna start diggin' right now!

She tried talking Jethro into letting her return to her apartment without success. He wouldn't budge an inch. It occurred to her to just take Roger, get in the Jeep and go but she knew she'd never hear the end of it. It would be just like Jethro to put her in 'protective custody' (his) and lock her in the basement!

Watching his youngest agent, the Supervisory Senior Special Agent saw mutiny brewing on her face and sighed as he wondered what she was going to come up with next. If he had to, he'd have her put into 'protective custody' (his) and he'd lock her in the basement!

* * *

Four men, dressed as gardeners, went through the motions of raking and other things that would explain their presence in this yard if anyone glanced out a window; they gradually drifted toward the back of the house. A very nice yard with thick green grass silenced any sounds their steps may have made.

This house had been watched but they weren't certain if anyone was home. The red Jeep was missing so at least one was gone. They would find out who was here alone, if anyone, and take out the man, or, if it was the woman, they'd silence her with the drugs that Luis had in his pocket and bundle her out into the supposed work truck. Señor Alvada would be very pleased with them.

At Luis' sign, one man began working on getting the back door open, no easy task. It became necessary to remove the entire knob assembly and that made more noise than they wanted but it couldn't be helped.

At last the inside doorknob fell loose onto the kitchen floor with a dull  _'thunk'_ and they eased the door open. Silence. They slowly eased into the house, guns ready, stopping in the living area where Luis silently directed one of them to creep upstairs to see if anyone was there and another to the basement.

The house was empty. Glancing around, Luis saw nothing that gave them more than they already knew, so he motioned for everyone to leave.

Once they were clear, he made a private call to report his findings and received new orders.

* * *

That evening when Jethro and Molly returned home, Molly headed straight to the kitchen to feed Roger and stopped short.

_"Jethro!"  
_

He had been heading to the basement to check on his wood but spun on his heel and ran into the kitchen. There he saw the doorknob in the floor, the door itself only partially closed.

"Stay here," he ordered as he grabbed his weapon to begin a careful search for intruders.

Disobeying his order, she grabbed her own weapon, signaling Roger to stay, she went through the rooms with him, calling 'Clear!' after each was checked. She would not leave him without backup.

Hearing Molly's calls, he realized that she had his back. Search complete, he stuck his Sig in the back of his belt, went to the basement and returned with tools to reinstall the doorknob. Door shut and locked, he looked at Molly.

In spite of everything, she stood there, loaded weapon in hand, after professionally clearing a building and watching his six. He wished he had a picture of her as she stood feet apart, Sig in hand, face determined and focused. That prince was right: she was a lioness - and certainly was rare and precious. To him.

"Looks like both of us need to go to my apartment," she muttered.

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 3: REPRISAL

* * *

 

 

Gibbs was furious inside. So these dirtbags think they can just walk in, huh? They have some hard lessons coming and  _he_  was going to be their instructor.

Molly's laptop was playing a movie that she wasn't watching. Gibbs could tell that her mind was racing but didn't know exactly what she was thinking. Or plotting.

He got up and walked over to the couch, sitting on the edge. "You okay, Molly?"

With a deja vu feeling, as if this was the opening scene of the nightmare she had just gone through, she could only look into those beautiful blue eyes that were now so caring and gentle and slowly shake her head.

Her voice was low and soft, "Jethro, when will I be able to live again? I don't know that I can continue like this. I thought after I - killed Alvada, I'd be safe if I could just get back here...but now..."

Gibbs closed her laptop and put it on the coffee table, then leaned down, slipping his arms under and around her, kissing the side of her face as he rested his temple beside hers on the wide, padded armrest.

"I don't know, sweet Molly. But I promise you this. I'm making a short trip to Colombia to tend to some business. I can guarantee you that you'll be able to live in peace and never be bothered again."

Somehow Molly's arm found its way around him, the palm of her hand tracing small random patterns on the strong muscles of his back. The other was on on the back of his opposite shoulder holding him as close as he was her. Neither was aware of what they had done so naturally.

"Jethro, you can't expose yourself to danger like that. Colombia isn't exactly a friend to us. You might not be able to get back."

"Nothing is gonna happen to me, Molly. I'm coming back, you can count on that."

Tears began to trail down Molly face. "No," she pleaded. "Jethro, don't leave. Please? All the time I – was away, the only thing that kept me goin' was knowin' that you were comin' to get me. All I had to do was to just survive until then. And you did come and brought me back. I – I – just can't – bear - to be separated from you like that again. Please don't go, Jethro. Once you asked me how I could be so calm – the answer is you, Jethro. You. Please don't go."

The thumb of one big hand wiped the tears from her cheeks as he buried his face in her hair, his cheek against hers, emotions roiling through him, the rage at this new trouble, the tenderness and – whatever emotions these others were that he was feeling towards Molly.

He raised his head, whispering, "Only this one last time, sweet Molly. Then I'll be right here with you. That's a promise."

Suddenly it must have dawned on them at the same time – their lips were so close,  _soo_  close. Each felt the soft warm breath of the other on their faces.

Molly wanted to pull him down closer still and he was fighting with himself to not lean in and take possession of the lips as he had wanted for so long.

That moment was frozen in time – then it was shattered by the trill of Gibbs' cell.

Hating it with a vengeance, he sat up and answered curtly, "Gibbs."

"David Enders, CIA, Agent Gibbs. We have a lead on a woman who is the long-time mistress of Alvada's son. We're going to attempt to make contact with her and see if she might be willing to talk with us. I'll be back in touch with whatever transpires."

"Thanks. 'Preciate it."

Gibbs sat where he was, thinking about the ramification of this new info. It could prove to be  _very_  important to Molly's situation and his actions.

Molly didn't ask but waited silently as her thoughts still clung to the moment that had passed. Oh, that damnable phone! If it hadn't rung...

Then Gibbs told her about the call.

"Maybe you won't have to go, Jethro. Maybe the CIA will get him."

Jethro turned back to her, his eyes sweeping over her face as that shining dark hair lay spread out on either side of it. "I gotta do this myself, Molly. Then I'll know with certainty that it ends there. I don't trust anyone else to take care of you."

Gibbs wanted nothing more but to take up where they had left off but he knew he couldn't. He wondered if he had let too much of his feelings for her show - - but – she – hadn't objected. Had she? Women can be confusing. At least he wasn't looking down the barrel of a gun right now.

Molly's thoughts were along the same line; she hadn't been fired yet. Maybe her secret was still a secret.

* * *

Several days later Gibbs learned that the woman had talked to the operatives in exchange for a huge wad of Uncle Sam's money.

He went straight up to Murrow's office. "Tom, I gotta go to Colombia."

The Director looked up. "First it was Saudi Arabia, now it's Colombia? You saving up air mile reward points or something? What now, Gibbs?"

Gibbs filled in the Director in on the info he'd just learned. "This is our opportunity to take down the Alvadas once and for all."

"And keep Agent MacKenzie safe."

"That most of all. These waves of assassins keep coming at her. How much longer do you think she can hold up?"

"I would have expected her to break a long time ago. She's tougher than any of us thought."

"She's at the breaking point now, Tom," Gibbs said softly. "She wanted to move out so I wouldn't have to put up with this anymore. Said she wished they'd just go ahead and shoot her and get it over with. She can't deal with it anymore."

Morrow looked down as his fingers turned a pen around and around as he slightly nodded. "She's a good agent."

"She's a  _superior_  agent and I don't intend to let them harm her or drive her away."

The Director studied the former marine across from him. "Need to ask you something, Gibbs. How much of this is personal involvement?"

Gibbs was stunned. "Personal involvment, Tom? I take it very personal when somebody messes with my people! They mess with them, they're gonna answer to me!"

"Easy, Marine. I wasn't making any accusations, just wanted to know if there is a personal involvment between you and Agent MacKenzie."

"What do you think, Tom? Until just recently, we have lived in the same house since I brought her to Washington. Of course, it's personal. How could it not be! But I'll tell you this. I haven't felt this good in years. Somehow she's found out how to control some of the bad things and bring out some good things in me. I'm freer inside than I ever expected to be. I don't want to go back to the way I used to be. She'll never understand all that she has done for me. Yeah. It's real personal!"

Murrow was quiet a long time before he asked quietly, "Does she know that you love her?"

Gibbs was stunned!  _"Do I - ?"_ he started to protest.

He stopped as his thoughts ranged back over their time together and the unknown feelings that had grown as time had passed.

' _DO_   _I love her?'_ His face was puzzled as he tried to figure it out.

The Director watched quietly as his senior-most agent searched for an answer. Then he saw Gibbs' face clear.

"Don't think so. Didn't know myself."

Murrow nodded and looked at the tense agent and smiled slightly. "Relax, Gibbs. No one else knows, to my knowledge. I'm not sure how I knew, but I did. Back to Colombia. We can send a Seal team in. That satisfy you?"

Gibbs shook his head. "It's gotta be me."

"Who do you want to take with you?"

"DiNozzo. He can talk his way into or out of about most anything. Might be useful down there."

Morrow nodded. "Keep it under your hat for now. I have to break the happy news to SecNav. Hope he won't overrule me and throw both of us out. I'll let you know when I know something."

"Thanks, Tom. Don't let it take too long. I don't want those dirtbags in this country again."

Downstairs, Gibbs noticed that DiNozzo was MIA and asked McGee where he was.

"Gone to get coffee. He said your meeting with the Director was going on too long and he was pretty sure you'd need a cup when you came out."

* * *

A beautiful private jet made its approach and landed smoothly at the Louis Armstrong International Airport in New Orleans, Louisiana. Taxiing to the ramp of the Fixed Base Operator, it was guided into place by a lineman and the engines were shut down.

Carlos smiled. New Orleans had always been a favorite place to visit. The food here could not be surpassed.

The co-pilot opened the door and soft warm air flooded in, filling the cabin with the wonderful ambiance of the city. A uniformed officer stepped into the cabin to collect the customs forms that each person on board was required to fill out and to record all pertinent information.

When the inspector asked the purpose of his visit, Alvada answered jovially, "To eat! Hopefully to have an encounter with a lovely American lady."

The Inspector deplaned with a chuckle. Another rich tourist, he told himself. He made a cursory inspection of the big private jet, checking off everything on his form, satisfied that it was clean. And it was – except for the weapons carefully hidden in a secret compartment beneath the carpet in the cabin.

After nodding to his aircraft's crew, Alvada stepped out of the jet into a waiting limousine. Accompanied by Luis, he would spend some time in this magnificent place and just enjoy himself for a day or two. Then, they would continue on to Reagan National Airport in Washington, D.C. Since they and the aircraft have already cleared customs, there would be no further inspections of the aircraft and they would tend to the real purpose of their visit to the US.

* * *

The next day, Director Morrow called Gibbs. "Just got word that Alvada has been seen in New Orleans. You may not need to make your trip after all."

"Gotta be outside the country. We'll wait."

Morrow commented, "You're right. Didn't think that one through. Well, at least we might be able to track him now that we know he's on our turf. I'll let you know if I hear anything else."

Gibbs sat at his desk thinking. Why would Alvada be in the US? Wouldn't he be expected to be at home with his mother and family mourning his father's death instead of partying in NOLA? Yeah, he wanted to keep a close eye on this one.

He looked at Molly working on a cold case, studying her computer screen.

Yeah. He'd keep a  _real_  close eye on it!

He wondered if Alvada had traveled commercially or did he have a private plane? Molly was the one who would have the answers of how to find out but he didn't want to alert her to this latest development just yet.

Then he looked at his Senior Field Agent. He got up and said, "DiNozzo, with me," as he headed for the elevator.

He stopped the elevator only a second after the doors closed.

"What's up, Boss?"

"When you were searching for information on tracing or tracking private aircraft, did you learn how to do that for foreign aircraft?"

"No. Just US domestic. Once an aircraft is here, there may be a way to trace it. Molly could tell us - - uh, oh. I see the problem, Boss. Let me make some calls. I might be able to come up with something. Made some good contacts while on that assignment. I take it that this is under wraps for now?"

"You take it right, DiNozzo. Don't wanna say anything until I have to. McGee knows how to get passenger lists on inbound commercial flights?"

"I don't know, Boss, but I think he can find anything. We looking for Junior?"

"Yeah. He's in New Orleans."

"How about having Pride check into it. Maybe keep tabs on him."

"Good idea."

"I'll get started on this. I'll get Tim going, too."

The elevator returned to their floor and Tony left. Gibbs left to get everyone coffee.

Before he went to the coffee stand, he sat on one of the benches across from the Barry and punched in a number with a small smile.

It was answered with, "Hello, my brotha! What's up?"

"Hey, Pride. You good?"

"Everything's  _always_  good in NOLA, you know that, my man!"

"Yeah, but I just wanted to give you a chance to brag about it." Laughter leaving his voice, Gibbs continued, "Got a problem you might be able to help me with if you got time."

"Lemme have it and I'll do my best."

"No doubt about that!"

Then Gibbs told the entire story to the Supervisory Senior Agent in Charge of the NCIS office in New Orleans, Dwayne Cassius Pride, aka King.

"Damn, your team has been through it, Gibbs! Yeah, email me the info and – check that!  _Tell_  me the info and I'll get on it. I keep forgettin' how outdated you are in this computerized world. Anyhow, LaSalle is drivin' me crazy here with nothin' to do. Guess I'm gonna have to buy him a new box of crayons soon. I'll put him on it."

After defending himself on his electronic skills, Gibbs gave Pride all the info he currently had.

"Okay, Brotha! I'll get back to ya as soon as we got somethin'!"

Gibbs sat there for another moment with a small smile on his face. He and Pride had started at the same time, served as probies together, had become great friends and stayed great friends ever since. There wasn't anything that one wouldn't do for the other. And New Orleans was the perfect place for Pride. He did love his hometown, familiar with every nuance of it and the people! Good times.

Distributing the coffee he'd bought at the little bistro, Gibbs took a few sips from his cup and caught Tim's eye over the top of his computer and raised that commanding eyebrow. Tim shot a quick glimpse toward Molly, then nodded discretely at his boss, sending Gibbs a quick text: on it, zip yet.

The only problem was that Molly caught the fast check Tim had made on her. She completed whatever she was typing on the keyboard, saved and closed the file, then swiveled her chair so it was facing Gibbs and stared at him silently.

He hated it when she did that. He always felt as if she could see right through him, making him feel like some kid standing before the principal at school.

He tried subterfuge. "You need something, Molly?" he asked mildly.

"I'd like to be in on whatever the three of you have been up to all afternoon. Or is it a 'boys only' thing? I'll take Roger out if y'all need some time."

There is no way she could know. Yet she did. "Just checking out some intel. You were busy – or you were  _supposed_  to be busy. You don't have enough to keep you occupied?"

"Don't deflect, Jethro. You're always so surprised that I can multi-task – and do it quite well, actually. And, you overlook the fact that I am an experienced investigator."

One eyebrow tweaked upward, then she said, "Rog, you want to go out, big guy? I think that would be a good idea." As she left the bullpen, she shot a quick smirk-smile at her boss.

Gibbs caught the smile and had to chuckle. There is no way to catch her off-guard. Well, may as well make use of the time.

"Sitrep, McGee."

"Running searches on all incoming airlines, no hits on the Alvada name so far."

"DiNozzo?"

"Six private aircraft entered the US from South America, only two to New Orleans. Should have info back on those two very shortly."

Tim offered, "If Alvada has an airplane, it's easy to track as long as we know which one. He'd have to file a flight plan with the FAA and it would be under FAA control all the way, passed from one control center to another. Learned that from Molly."

"Can you get a copy of that flight plan when it's filed?"

"Not sure. Let me dig a little."

Tony told him, "I have some contacts. If any of them can help, I'll give you the numbers."

Five minutes later, Gibbs' cell trilled. "What is it, Molly?"

"Roger has finished his business, have you finished yours? Can I come back up now?"

Swallowing a grin, he said gruffly, "Get your butt back up here, MacKenzie!" He snapped the phone shut as that right side corner of his mouth shot up.

Strolling into the bullpen as if nothing had happened, Molly gave them a brilliant smile, sat at her desk and pretended to have great interest in the case she was investigating. It was awfully quiet as male eyes quickly flitted from her to one another.

Gibbs could see that tiny smile she was hiding, knowing she was playing with them and enjoying every minute of it. A mischievous Molly warranted a close watch.

* * *

LaSalle sauntered up to the counter of the busy fixed base office and waited for the girl to finish with the business she was handling on the phone.

Nice place here. Clean, organized. Guess it goes with the nature of dealing with rich folks' private jets.

"May I help you, sir?" Bright blue eyes smiled at him.

"Yes, ma'am." He showed his creds, saying with a drawl, "Chris LaSalle, NCIS. Need some info on a private jet that came in yesterday, maybe day before from Colombia, South America. Got an owner's name, number of the plane?"

"Yes, sir. That would be Mr. Alvada's jet right out there on the ramp." Jotting down a number, she told him, "This is the registration number."

"Do you know how long he'll be here?"

"That was Mr. Alvada's pilot on the phone just now. They expect to leave sometime tomorrow."

"Going to?"

"Sorry, we don't get that information."

"Alvada come here often?"

"The younger one, yes, but his father only now and then. In fact, we haven't seen him in a while."

"Okay, miss. Thank you."

Outside, Chris pulled out his cell phone and clicked a shot of the white jet. He stood in the sunshine admiring the beautiful plane for a moment, then headed for his truck.

"Hey, King. Got some info on the jet." He relayed the intel to his boss. "You still want me to go try to find him?"

"No, don't guess so, Chris. I think we have what Gibbs' needs. Come on back. Bring somethin' to eat. I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry, King!" LaSalle smiled.

Pride called Gibbs. "Hey, my man! Chris got some news for ya."

Listening, Gibbs felt a slight chill drift across him. He knew where Alvada junior was headed. "Preciate that, Dwayne! Tell Chris I owe him a dinner."

Molly was downstairs in the evidence locker checking on something for her cold case. If she wasn't so valuable with current cases, he'd be tempted to assign her exclusively to cold cases. She had a knack for finding the one little something that wrapped one up, giving comfort to someone's family in doing so.

DiNozzo and McGee were looking at him. "Got what we needed. He's leaving there tomorrow. We can guess his next stop." He had Tim download the image of the jet and send it to himself and Tony.

Tony was studying the jet on his screen when Molly returned to the 'pen. "Nice jet, Tony. Thinkin' of gettin' one, huh?"

He looked up into brown eyes that told him she knew better. "That what y'all been so secretive about? Did ya ever stop to think that I could have saved all of ya a whole lot of trouble, not to mention time?" The last was directed at Gibbs.

"When is he expected?" she asked with a tone that said 'don't mess with me anymore'.

Gibbs sighed. "Sometime tomorrow."

"So?"

"I don't know yet."

"When were you plannin' on tellin' me? When he walked up on the porch?"

Gibbs sighed again. There was no way he was going to win this one. "We had very little intel and had to check it out. That intel just came in."

Roger didn't like the tone of the conversations he was hearing. Sitting beside Molly at her desk, he put a paw on her leg and whined softly. Gently ruffling his fur, she spoke softly to him, assuring him that all was well. At least in the personal category of things.

Gibbs was frightened of the possibilities that were imminent and that made him irritable. "I don't have to tell you everything, Agent MacKenzie."

Molly looked at him a moment, then turned back to her case as she said quietly, "So very true, Supervisory Senior Special Agent Gibbs." Her voice wasn't insubordinate or sarcastic but it clearly said 'I am not happy with you'.

She spoke to no one for the rest of the afternoon, focusing her attention on the case. Actually, she had already solved it but would continue writing her notes and findings which would be the final steps.

When she finished it, she printed out the additional pages, attached them to the file, signed them and dropped the folder on Tony's desk, then walked to the break room.

The SFA looked over what she had done, read her report and glanced up at Gibbs. "She's done it again."

Gibbs held his hand out for the file, Tony put it into his hand then headed for the breakroom.

Molly stood staring unseeingly at a bright travel poster that adorned the plain, uninspiring walls of the room.

Walking up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her. "How ya doing, MollyMac?"

With a sigh, she relaxed against him, feeling the comfort he was offering. "I dunno, Tony. I just can't find the energy to fight anymore. It would almost be worth gettin' killed just to have some peace, ya know? And Gibbs acts like he wants to wrap me in cotton and sit me on a shelf somewhere. I know he cares about us but - - I dunno."

Tony felt how defeated and tired she was with the whole sordid business. He rested his chin atop her head. "I understand, MollyMac. You've been through more than any of us can imagine. But, this will be the last round. After Junior is gone, that's the last of it. Think you can hang on just a little bit longer? Maybe you can spend tomorrow night in the lab, let the rest of us flush him out. What do you think?"

"I think I have to fight my own battles, Tony. There is no reason for the rest of you to be endangered because of me. I took his father out, I can take him out, too."

"Yeah, I know you did and you probably can. But you've forgotten that we're all a team now. We fight each other's battles. You wouldn't leave me or Tim or Gibbs to fight alone. We won't leave  _you_  to fight alone."

Molly's energy had deserted her. She felt too exhausted to even breathe. "I'm goin' down to see Ducky. His tea always helps."

"You're right about that. I'll go with you; tea sounds real good about now."

* * *

When Tony didn't bring Molly right back, Gibbs went to the door of the break room and stopped, listening as they talked, then left before they saw him.

He hadn't handled this very well, but, as usual, Tony had his six, doing what he should have done. He was letting his feelings get in the way of his best judgment and he couldn't allow that to happen.

It was quiet that evening in the Gibbs household. Molly wasn't angry with him, yet she was disturbed and distant. He guessed he would be, too, in her position.

She had gotten out her shotgun and rifle and cleaned them thoroughly, reloading them carefully. Then her Sig received the same treatment. She was preparing herself for war and she didn't intend to lose.

Later, he saw her looking at Roger, thinking. Probably trying to decide on the safest place for him, here or at the Yard. He'd wait for her to volunteer her thoughts. She had her own mindset working and he knew she wouldn't be sidetracked.

He wanted to hold her so bad his arms actually ached, but held himself in check. He went down to the basement and started to open the dusty bottle of bourbon that sat on the worktable, but put it back down. Now wasn't the time for that. Had to be sharp.

* * *

The next morning, he had the team put on vests, himself included. No one said anything; words would be superfluous.

Molly had decided that Roger would be safer with Mr. Jenkins who was delighted to have the shepherd stay with him. His eyes sharp, the marine vet didn't ask questions, knowing that they had to be facing a bad situation and keeping Roger safe was the best help he could give.

Molly had even put both of her personal firearms in the Jeep that morning. She couldn't bring them into the building, but she knew where they were if she needed them.

All of them tried to keep their attention on papers and files in front of them but it was hard. All four of them started when Gibbs' phone rang. "Yeah, Gibbs."

"Hey, my brotha! Thought you'd want to know that a certain jet left here this mornin' a few minutes after 0900. Chris is out at the airport now waiting for a copy of the flight plan, but I gotta feelin' you already know where he's headed."

"Thanks, Pride. Good work. Yeah, we're ready for him, I think. Molly even has her shotgun close at hand."

Pride's voice dropped to a low, serious tone, "Watch yourself, Gibbs. Alvada had somebody with him but we couldn't get a name for ya. Just keep ya head down, huh?"

"We're good, Pride. I owe ya."

"Yeah. Ya need to get your butt down here after this is over. Chris wants to collect his dinner. Brody's out on a few days leave or you'd owe her one, too."

"We'll do it. Brody included." The phone closed with a snap.

Gibbs asked Tim, "What's the flight time from New Orleans here?"

Before he could answer, Molly said evenly, "Two hours, five minutes, give or take a few. With prevailing winds this time of year, I'd say take a few. Call the tower at National and ask them to let us know when it calls in." She was fully qualified to fly the Gulfstream series and knew almost to the second how long it would take.

She asked Gibbs, "Shouldn't we have some eyes out there when they land? I'll go."

Visions of a Gunfight at the OK Corral in the middle of Reagan National Airport shot through Gibbs' mind. But she had a point. Why hadn't he thought of it.

He glanced over at the adjoining bullpen. "Balboa, you busy?"

Rising from his seat, the Senior Agent of the #2 MCRT walked over to Gibbs' desk. "What you need?"

"Got somebody who can go out to National and keep some eyes on a private jet that should be arriving after a while. Just to observe and report, nothing more."

Glancing at the heavy vests the MCRT was wearing, he said, "I think I need to get out for a little while. Maybe I'll drive out and watch airplanes for a while. I've always enjoyed that."

Balboa winked, spoke briefly with his team, then left with a photo of the jet and the registration number.

Molly wanted to go get her other weapons so bad. And she  _didn't_  want any bullet holes in her new Jeep.

Carolyn Daughtry, team leader of the third team, stopped by. "Going out for coffee. Bring anything back for you?"

Tony dug out some bills and jotted down their orders. "Thanks, Carolyn. You're a life-saver."

Glancing at the vest strapped to his chest, she said with a raised brow, "No, I think you've already got that covered."

The day dragged on and on. The vests were hot and uncomfortable and all of them felt ridiculous sitting at their desks wearing them, but orders are orders, especially when given by an uptight, tense, irritated, worried Boss.

Balboa reported seeing only Alvada and one other man besides the pilots leave the plane. That coincided with what Pride said.

By seven that afternoon, everything remained peaceful. Having had nothing except stale sandwiches from the break room vending machine, all four were ready to leave and go eat. Gibbs insisted that they have the vests on anytime they were out of their own apartments.

The day had really been a disappointment and there was the slight feeling of a letdown combined with the uncertainty of when the attack would take place. It wasn't a matter of 'if' but 'when'.

Molly walked out the main doors of the building behind Gibbs and DiNozzo but a little ahead of Tim.

She was trying to decide if she should go get Roger or let him stay with Mr. Jenkins.

Sudden shots from two high-powered rifles ripped across the river and the Navy Yard grounds.

Molly yelped as she slid to the ground, blood pouring from the side of her head, a black hole through the front of her vest.

The team had instantly hit the ground at the sound of gunfire, then raised their heads as they quickly checked each other.

Tim, closest to Molly, screamed her name but got no response. Gibbs, face white as a sheet, scrambled as fast as possible to where she lay, eyes closed, blood soaking her dark hair, staining the sidewalk.

A strangled "NO!" erupted from his throat.

* * *

~ Continued ~

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 1: BEGINNINGS  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 2: VENDETTA  
> The Carolina Connection Series: Book 1, part 3: REPRISAL

* * *

 

Marine sentries swarmed around them, watchful eyes protecting the team from further harm.

An EMS team was on the way, but they weren't getting there fast enough. Gibbs couldn't tear his eyes away from Molly's face, trying to brush the blood away but forcing himself not to look at the wound in the side of her head.

He was flashing back to Kate on the rooftop even though he knew this was different. Molly still had a pulse.

The faces of Tim and Tony were grim but white beneath their tans. None of them could say a word. The Yard was on lockdown, though it seemed obvious that the shots came from across the river.

At last the ambulance arrived and the team had to move aside to give the medics room to move. They didn't say a lot, speaking very quietly to themselves as they worked on the agent, then loaded her onto a gurney and placed her in the ambulance that sped away.

Gibbs started toward his sedan, trying to keep his feet moving as ordered, but his legs suddenly didn't feel very reliable.

Someone took his elbow. "I'll drive, Agent Gibbs. You don't need to be behind a wheel right now."

Gibbs turned to see John Daly, one of Daughtry's agents beside him. Gibbs wanted to scream, to protest, to do  _something_  but his body wasn't cooperating. All he could see was Kate's face superimposed over Molly's. He, DiNozzo and McGee got into the car and Daly drove.

Gibbs was prepared to be furious with Daly's slow driving but the agent surprised him, flashing blue lights behind the grill announcing their hurry, expertly weaving in and out of traffic with a sure hand, timing lights almost perfectly, quickly arriving at the hospital not too far behind the ambulance.

He placed a law enforcement placard on the dash so it could be readily be seen, then got the agents out, locked the car, and shepherded them into the hospital.

Their badges got them into the Bethesda ER though they could get no information for a time but the activity in the cubicle in which Molly had been placed assured them that she was alive.

Not long afterward, Molly's bed was being wheeled out of the cubicle, headed down a hallway. A doctor, removing his gloves, approached them saying, "I'm sending her up for a CT to see what degree of concussion she got out of that, and to check on those ribs. Could be broken. I was able to get the wound on her temple stitched up, so that should heal without further problem."

Gibbs, getting paler by the minute, managed to ask, "What do you mean? What kind of damage did the bullet do? Will she live?"

The doctor and Agent Daly exchanged a quick look as the doctor took the Senior Agent by the elbow and began leading him to a seating area. He looked as if he could pass out any second.

"Your agent will be fine. The bullet grazed her temple, a  _deep_  graze, mind you, but her skull appears intact. The CT will answer our questions about that. As you may know, any wound to the head bleeds profusely, as this one did, but I assure you, she should make a full recovery and be home possibly by tomorrow, depending on the test results."

Gibbs slowly sagged in the chair, barely able to breathe. Tim and Tony were recovering from the terrible shock and the accompanying flashbacks they each had from Kate's death.

Apparently, Agent Daly had a quick, quiet word with the doctor explaining the team's trauma and Molly's appearance before the ambulance took her away.

Armed with this knowledge, when the doctor returned to update them on the CT, he carefully explained everything for them, showing them on frames he had printed, that Molly was concussed but would be back with them tomorrow. Her overnight stay was a precaution.

She had two badly bruised ribs which would be quite painful for a while but the vest had saved her life. It had been a very close call, but she would be fine. "If you have any questions or concerns whatsoever, don't hesitate to call me." He handed them his cards, then moved on to the next patient awaiting his attention.

An orderly escorted them to the room assigned to Molly then left them. Gibbs' eyes rapidly searched her for any undiscovered injury, wanting to remove the heavy dressing over the bullet wound to check it for himself. He felt sick at his stomach and swallowed hard.

All of his words and promises about keeping her safe spun around in his memory.  _Failure!_  His failure had come so very close to killing his agent, killing Molly. Gibbs was deep and heavy into guilt, believing that he was responsible for this as always.

He slowly moved aside as Tim and Tony each stood quietly beside her. They also took the burden of guilt on themselves. They should have done this, done that, or the other.

Ducky soon arrived, terribly relieved to hear the doctor's report. The word that spread like wildfire through the building was that she was dead. The older man's heart had been pounding like a jackhammer, hurrying to get here as fast as he could manage. He had seen the pool of blood on the white sidewalk, believing what he had heard was true.

Agent Daly was an invaluable help to them through the night. He very quietly arranged for additional comfortable chairs for Dr. Mallard and the team. He had a tray with variety of freshly made sandwiches brought to them, along with plenty of coffee and a pot of tea for the doctor.

He carefully and quietly stayed in the background but took care of what matters he could to help them. Several hours had passed and the restless Tony stopped where Daly stood just outside the door and asked, "Where did you learn to drive like that, John?"

Daly quietly smiled, "Used to be with the Secret Service, Presidential Unit. Had a lot of special training in driving."

Tony just extended a hand and shook Daly's hand. Yep. This guy knew how to handle emergencies during and after. "Thanks. For everything."

Daly just kept that quiet smile and nodded.

* * *

Very early the next morning, Molly woke up completely confused about where she was and what had happened. The last thing she could remember was deciding about where Roger would stay.

Yeah, she had a thundering headache and ribs that sent waves of white-hot pain through her when she tried to move, but there was no need for her to be in a hospital bed. She assured the doctor that she had a bottle of aspirin at home and she'd be fine. She didn't mention the blurred vision, though all of them were aware of it and the forgetfulness that accompanied the concussion.

Ducky sighed. Sounds just like Gibbs, DiNozzo and McGee. What is it with these agents refusing to stay in hospitals and letting themselves properly heal?

Agent Daly had taken DiNozzo to Gibbs' place to get fresh clothing for Agent MacKenzie so as soon as she was mostly steady on her feet, she could get the shower she begged for. A nurse located a shower chair so she could safely shower and wash the dried blood from her hair.

Gibbs looked at the black hole in the vest. That shot would have been an instant kill. Thank God, he had made them wear them.

He made his report to Morrow by phone. The Director had already heard, of course, but it was good to get it straight from his Senior Agent.

The Director made sure that the blood was completely removed from the sidewalk and issued an in-house memo that Special Agent MacKenzie was making a full recovery and would return to duty in a few days. That put a stop to the wild rumors making the rounds.

* * *

Alvada was extremely happy. He had extracted his revenge on the one who had taken his father from him. Now he had peace inside and his father could rest in peace.

The jet was at 35,000 feet and in a few more hours he would be at home with his family.  _'This is a good day!'_  he told himself.

Luis returned his boss' smile. One shot to the head, one to the heart. A good day's work.

* * *

When it was determined that the jet had left Reagan National and had filed a flight plan for Bogota, Colombia, the entire team breathed a sigh of relief. Molly insisted on returning to her apartment to continue her recovery – the headaches were a beast to manage – and Mr. Jenkins was pleased to keep an eye on her and on the outlook for  _anything_  that looked suspicious. Once a marine, always a marine.

Gibbs came by every evening with supper. Everytime he looked at her he felt as if he wanted to burst into tears of thankfulness that she hadn't followed Shannon, Kelly, Jenny and Kate. No more. No. More.

Her ribs were so painful that it was awfully hard for her to get up and down, but he was very happy to be able to help her, gently holding her and lifting her. He kept check on her aspirin bottle, assuring himself that she was taking enough but not too many. He took the trash out, washed the dishes, walked Roger, changed linens and did laundry.

Molly did her best to get him to just walk Roger for her until she could get up and down the stairs and she'd get to the rest when she could. Stubborn man that he was, he wouldn't listen. Wouldn't even argue, just did it. And he looked for every opportunity possible as an excuse to hold her.

The ribs made changing clothes painful but she was adamant that he could  _not_  help! She'd manage, thank you very much! But at least he could help her lay down in a clean fresh bed and cover her up.

The hard part was removing his arms from around her. He wanted to stay right there, smelling the fresh scent of soap, listening to her breathe as she drifted into sleep.

He hadn't asked her about nightmares, but he asked Sarge downstairs to keep an ear out and to call him if she did.

As soon as Molly improved enough to return to desk duty, he began to plan his next move, to keep a promise made not long ago.

* * *

It was several weeks later that Gibbs and DiNozzo arrived in South America.

The weather in Bogota was pleasantly cool but the high altitude took a toll on their breathing. At nearly nine thousand feet on an Andes plateau, it is a sprawling city of almost nine million, one of the largest cities in all of South America.

The two had studied many maps of the city, knowing exactly where Alvada jr had his office and where his palatial home was located.

Bogota is a strange city. There is a main business district with towering skyscrapers, ringed by miles and miles of shanties and slums containing , many, many millions. There is one 'upscale' district for the rich people, called the Rosa Zone, which included large shopping areas that catered to their expensive tastes and demands.

The two agents checked into a hotel, got a bite to eat, then set out with the map to do a little exploring. Instead of doing tourist things such as checking out all that the shops and stores, the pair spent a lot of time checking the heights of certain buildings, entrances, exits, rooftop accesses and so on.

Days later, after carefully screening all of them, one building had their attention. This one would do. Now they just had to wait until dark.

This Rosa zone was packed with things to do, but Gibbs wasn't interested in Latin American dancing, or singing, or listening to music he was sure only Abby would enjoy. However, the ever-curious DiNozzo managed to convince the boss to just walk around with him, see what there was to see.

Then, they came across a large shop that specialized in many different types of Colombian coffee and their various blends. There was no passing it by. Tony waited patiently while Gibbs examined all the different beans and listened to a very knowledgeable barista telling him all the differences. He poured a sip or two into little plastic cups and let Gibbs taste as many as he wanted.

That's when Gibbs found something that made the whole trip worthwhile; the perfect coffee blend his taste buds had awaited for a lifetime. He bought eight bags of the stuff and made arrangements for automatic orders to be shipped monthly so he'd never run out. He walked out the door looking like the cat that stole the cream.

They soon returned to their hotel just to wait. DiNozzo stretched out on his bed with his serious "thinking" face on. Gibbs examined his coffee bags, reading every word on the labels. He had looked for a place like this all his life – and now he had it.

The first night was a dud. No sign of their quarry. They knew that he kept odd hours so he could keep up with the various stock exchanges around the world.

More prepared next time, Gibbs spread out a blanket folded in half and stretched out on his stomach on the rooftop he had chosen. He set up his personal sniper's rifle and made minute adjustments. Then again it was a matter of waiting.

Tony had brought a huge thermos filled with Gibbs' strong coffee. One sip of that and there would be no sleeping this night. Maybe even the next.

* * *

Tom Morrow sat in his office, slowly turning his pen in his fingers, a lifelong habit when thinking.

His mind was focused on the two agents he had allowed to go into the field on a very dangerous mission. If caught, there wouldn't be a whole lot the United States could do to help them. Both men were fully aware of all the consequences but were insistent on going.

Morrow's conscience was wondering if this was really legitimate and decided that, yes, the man had tried to murder one of his agents in cold blood. That was all the justification he needed.

He snorted with a small smile as he thought of Gibbs' comment about DiNozzo. Yes, the young man definitely had the 'gift of gab' and could charm a snake right out of its skin. His highly refined undercover skills could come in quite handy if needed.

Gibbs. He knew he definitely had the ability to carry out his mission and probably wouldn't bat an eye about it. Agent MacKenzie had spent much of the last three years living in sheer hell, always wondering at what second a bullet with her name on it would hit.

He had discreetly observed her and knew only her inner strength had kept her going, and going with a good attitude - and that smile. He chuckled as he thought that everybody in the entire building was in love with her. She quietly helped someone here, another there, gave support and encouragement to another, and on and on. Much like DiNozzo.

The two were like the NCIS versions of Mother Hens. Neither aware of the other's deeds, wanting no one to know of their own. It was just something they did. There were few who knew the names of the staff behind-the-scenes, but both of those agents did.

He wondered if Gibbs would ever let her know of his feelings for her. That wasn't anything he'd address as Director Morrow, though he might have concerns as  _Tom_  Morrow.

He seemed to recall that one of Gibb's many rules imposed on his team was one about no dating amongst team members. How now brown cow? He realized that he simply didn't want either one of them hurt or the team impaired.

This team was a Director's dream. Great synergy, fantastic work, impossibly high solve-rate. And they were great people on top of it all.

Not long ago, he overheard McGee and MacKenzie talking about aviation and was surprised to learn that McGee was learning to fly and being taught by his teammate. Both had expressed their great desire to go get a little airplane they called 'Charlie' from North Carolina.

He was even tempted to tell them to put the cold cases aside and go get it. Well...why not? Both were anxious about the secret mission their leader and SFA were on. That might take their minds off of it.

He wandered downstairs where the two agents sat working on cold cases, totally engrossed in their work. He stood in the middle of the bullpen for a moment, then cleared his throat. Both agents looked up a little startled.

Both acknowledged him and offered their apologies at the same time. He had to chuckle.

"Agent MacKenzie, am I to understand that you would like a day or two off for personal business?"

Molly looked puzzled but McGee's face lit up and asked, "To go to North Carolina, Director?"

"Yes. I believe that is where one of Agent MacKenzie's last possession remains. Am I correct?

Molly face absolutely glowed. "Charlie!"

McGee's face was right up there on the scale with her. "Oh, yes, Director Morrow! We've wanted to bring it up here for so long but something has always prevented it."

MacKenzie asked hopefully, "Tim can go with me? It would be a little safer if there are two of us."

Morrow responded, "I can't see one agent sitting here alone, can you?"

Unable to rein in her enthusiasm, Molly found herself hugging the Director, then her teammate. "We're gonna bring it home, Tim!"

Members of other teams in the bullpen were watching this unfold, though most didn't know the reason for the excitement, except John Balboa. A few times when he had visited, he had seen the pair work in the evenings at Gibbs' house on their charts, books on so many subjects including meteorology. It was interesting just to listen to them. He knew Tim was going to make a fine pilot; he certainly had a terrific instructor.

Cold case files quickly shoved into a lockable drawer, computers were quickly commanded to fetch weather data, fuel costs, and other things that nobody else understood. Like every other profession or interest, it had its own language.

* * *

Lying beside Gibbs on the roof top, DiNozzo held the binoculars steady as he waited for another glimpse of their target. Tony didn't know how Gibbs could lie there so still for such long periods of time.

"Training," the taciturn sniper replied without moving.

This was their third day and night laying in wait for a clear shot at Alvada. He would never know what hit him – which was a shame in a way. Gibbs wanted him to know before he was blown into eternity. Simple policing of their shell or shells and the two would leave as quietly as they had come.

Their previous day had brought them a close call. An old man opened the door to the rooftop for some unknown purpose. As soon as Gibbs saw the door begin to open he shoved the rifle under the edge of the blanket and grabbed a stunned DiNozzo and began kissing his cheek and ear as the astonished old man gaped then turned and hurried back down the stairs he had come up, closing the door behind himself.

When Gibbs saw that he was gone, he released a sputtering, stunned agent. " _BOSS!_ What the hell?  _Have you lost your ever-lovin' mind?"_

Gibbs calmly answered, "You'd rather answer to the old guy who just came out that door?"

"I – didn't see anyone."

"Which is why I'm the sniper - though you are  _supposed_  to be the observer."

Tony was still freaked out and wiped at his cheek.

"A little soap and water and you'll be fine, DiNozzo. Be glad I chose your cheeks." There was a smile in Gibbs' soft admonishment.

"Oh, Boss! Don't even go there! I think I may need therapy when I get back."

"DiNozzo, you've needed therapy for as long as I've known you. Suck it up. We're alive and there are no police swarming around us."

DiNozzo muttered something but Gibbs' attention was again on the target and didn't bother asking about it.

Unbroken hours passed and Gibbs still stayed in position, waiting for the right moment. The silencer would prevent anyone from knowing where the shot had come from.

Then in the late night hours, smoking a cigar, Alvada strolled out on the large balcony of his office. He put his hands on the rail around the balcony and looked up at the sky, seemingly just communing with the night itself.

A muffled sound would have been heard by anyone close to the rooftop, but that was it. The man standing on the balcony dropped instantly into an unmoving heap. Gibbs reached over and picked up the single shell fired without even looking at it. "Hit?" he asked softly.

Looking through the powerful binoculars, "Hit confirmed," responded his untrained observer.

After a long moment, Tony softly breathed in total respect, " _Damn_ , Boss! That was one  _helluva_  shot!"

"Let's get out of here. Check flights and we're on the first one back."

Tony almost slipped up for the first time. He had barely stopped himself from answering, "Yes,  _sir!"_

Too bad he wouldn't be able to tell anyone about it. Maybe the Director, but that's it.

The next morning around eleven o'clock a tired Gibbs and DiNozzo walked into an empty bullpen. Wondering where the other two agents were, they continued upstairs to Morrow's office.

Director Morrow listened to the report, nodding as he listened. Tony rolled one spent shell across Morrow's desk. "One shot."

Morrow asked, "Distance?"

"Little over a mile," the still amazed agent said quietly with great respect.

Gibbs all but rolled his eyes and asked slightly irritated, "You want this in writing, Tom? Not a good idea."

"I agree with you, Gibbs. Consider yourselves debriefed and return to regular duty."

Then he stood and held out his hand to the silver-haired man who was so highly esteemed. "Good job, Gibbs. DiNozzo."

Gibbs nodded with a sigh, just waiting for the others to get back to their normal selves and let him get back to work. No telling what McGee and MacKenzie had been up to. He just hoped it wasn't anything that wouldn't be fixable.

* * *

Very early the morning after being given permission to leave, Tim and Molly were able to hop a ride with a helicopter crew that was headed for Charleston, South Carolina and was willing to drop them off in Wilmington on the way.

When they entered Mike's office, he gave Molly a huge hug, delighted to see her again, and shook Tim's hand.

They walked to the hangar and checked out the little light green airplane. Mike had cranked up the engine and let it run for a bit every week to keep it in good order. Every inch of the aircraft was carefully checked, including tire condition and pressure.

Satisfied at last that it was airworthy and safe to fly, they returned to the office where Molly sat down with Tim to make out their final flight plan. Filing this with the FAA would ensure that an alert would immediately go into effect if they didn't show up when and where they were supposed to.

Flight path determined, weather checked, winds aloft checked, flight plan filed, both fuel tanks topped off, oil checked, Charlie's final bill paid, the two bade Mike good-bye and strapped themselves in.

Tim called the control tower and got clearance to taxi to the active runway and hold. His cheeks were flushed; this was the first time he had actually had an active part in a flight other than a training flight. All those afternoons and evenings going through all the drills Molly put him through, he realized that he was fully competent to do this even if he only had a student license.

This would also count as one of his required cross-country flights so he was thrilled in so many ways.

The moment that they were cleared into position and given permission for take-off was a big one for both of them. Molly felt as if she really was getting her life back again. She had given the aerial map to Tim up in the front seat and told him that he was solely responsible for guiding them back to their new home airport. He was excited and a little nervous at the same time. But he trusted his instructor enough to know she'd never allow that unless she was certain he was capable of doing it.

The little airplane slowly ate up miles. It's ground speed was only about a hundred miles per hour (slow in aeronautical terms), but it allowed them to really enjoy the land they were passing over and at their low thirty-five hundred foot altitude, it was a fascinating adventure.

Tim was getting used to handling the radio now and his navigating was spot-on. Even though something over four hours had passed since take-off, Tim still felt surprised when he realized it was time to request landing instructions at their new home base and terminate their flight plan.

Taxiing up to the fixed base office, following the wand directions of one of the flight line crew who was marshalling them in, 56-Charlie was properly parked and the faithful little engine shut down as a flightline crewman placed chocks in front of and behind the wheels. For a moment, they were enveloped in silence as each adapted to being back on earth again.

Molly checked that everything was turned off, unfastened her seat belt and harness and opened the door. "Good flight, Tim! You did a great job!"

His fair complexion took on a pink hue as he got out of the airplane and grinned a thanks. They thanked the linemen and introduced themselves and were welcomed.

In the office, they signed what contracts were required to keep Charlie hangared, and paid the first month's rent. A fuel truck rumbled up the the little plane, almost dwarfing it, and both tanks were topped off.

A mechanic would check the engine and top off any required fluids. Molly told him where the ship's log was kept, relieved and happy to finally have her sweet little plane with her again after so long.

Catching a ride to Andrews AFB where the Jeep was parked, it was a happy pair that headed back to the Navy Yard.

At the Yard, seeing that Gibbs and DiNozzo had returned, it was a happy reunion that took place. Gibbs and DiNozzo wanted to know about Charlie's homeward flight and were treated to a happy, glowing-eyed, blow-by-blow account of their flight, Tim's total responsibility for their navigation getting top billing.

Director Morrow came out and leaned on the rail above them, listening to their happy chatter, looking at their shining faces, remembering his own children once again. This is another reason he wanted to come back to this agency. The people.

* * *

That evening at Molly's apartment after a quiet supper, Gibbs sat close to Molly on the couch with an arm wrapped around her.

"Gibbs, I know you can't talk about your mission – but are you okay? You haven't said much since y'all got back."

He pulled her closer and kissed the side of her head. "I don't think I've been this good in a long time. You're free, Molly.  _Completely_  free."

Molly sat up straighter so she could look him straight in the eyes. Somehow she could read what he wasn't saying. "You – did it?"

There was a long, long pause before he slowly nodded his head. "Yeah."

"But – you're okay with that?"

"Yeah. Didn't want to take anybody else's word for it."

Molly curled up close to him with a sigh as he wrapped both arms around her. "Then, it's really over."

"Yeah."

"For good."

"Yep. For good."

Smiling, she nodded, then asked, "What's the first thing you want to do?"

"See you happy, Molly. That's all I ever want."

She sat up again and searched the blue eyes, but couldn't find the undercurrent she had caught in his voice. "Something is hidden in there but I don't know what."

Gibbs glanced down before looking back into her face. "It's simple. I want you happy. That's it."

"Jethro Gibbs, you aren't bein' straight with me."

He smiled. He liked the way his name sounded in that soft accent that he loved.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing."

She stared at him trying to decipher all the things she saw in his face and eyes, but whatever it was, he seemed to be happy about it. 'This is one complicated, man,' she thought.

* * *

Next:

The Carolina Connection Series

continues with

Book 2 part 1

LIFE: CHANGE

 


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